


hey hey ho

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: Though Santa’s legwork was good, his arms lacked certain strength. Akaashi said not a setter, at least, but Bokuto thought with training, Santa Claus could play a mean middle blocker.





	

Akaashi, to the testament of his great willpower and strength, said nothing when he opened the club room door and saw Bokuto curled on the floor. He merely stepped over him in one long stride, which might have worked if Bokuto hadn’t been clever enough to abruptly burst out of his hermit crab position, sending Akaashi sprawling on the floor with his backpack toppling onto his head. 

“Akaashi! Ask me what’s wrong!” 

“Hrn,” Akaashi said, or didn’t as much say as groan into the floor, hands flat and too close to a suspicious wad of fabric that had seen finer days. 

“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!” Bokuto, having no time for Akaashi’s shenanigans, crawled next to him. Akaashi sat up on his elbows, eyes wizened and old. 

“I thought you liked the presents,” Akaashi said, who, to the testament of his experience, didn’t even change his tone while he rubbed the bruise on his forehead. 

“I love the presents,” Bokuto said, “but it’s a romantic time, and I just realized, I never had a date! Never! I’m dateless on Christmas Eve!” 

“As are all of us in the volleyball club,” Akaashi said. He was correct, though Bokuto had a grading scale of datelessness. Konoha, for example, was particularly dateless. Some club members spent their time in classroom parties, others in the genial volleyball club Secret Santa No Bokutos Allowed Anymore exchange. 

“It’s fine if you don’t have a date,” Bokuto said. “But think about me! What if I actually do date someone one day, Akaashi? And I’m really bad at it, because I’ve never dated anyone before!”

“I’ve dated someone,” Akaashi said. “For two years in middle school.”

“Well, yeah. I remember.” Bokuto sat on his heels. Akaashi took the time to finally sit up, though he didn’t bother to stand. The snow fell in drifts outside the window. 

“Hey, Akaashi,” he began.

“No.” 

“Let’s spend Christmas Eve together, okay?” Bokuto hunched over him, jacket falling open. He etched a great big grin across his face. Akaashi frowned, gripped his backpack strap, and opened his mouth.

\--

On the echelon ranking of popularity, volleyball players should theoretically be on top. They were, for one thing, very strong. They were on television. They could jump very high. They had great spikes, excellent receives, and their ace was very, very handsome. But between the constant schedule of shepherding to practice in the morning and afternoons, and the occasional forgotten homework in the evening, the time for actual dating was slim, which had lead to the datelessness of the majority of the volleyball team. Which was fine during matches, but Christmas was the time for dating. Gingerbread smooches, laughing with your lover over Christmas cake, holding hands under strings of decorative lights that looked like a bajillion romantic stars. 

And the television programs advertised for the romantic atmosphere, as did the shopping malls, grocery stores, high school rumors, and the ever-prevalent cropping of Santas on the street corner, passing out flyers for cheap Christmas cakes. The Christmas trees had been placed in the malls, and the Colonel of the long KFC lines had been decked out in a furry red and white coat. The whole season was ripe for romance, and Bokuto Koutarou, professional high schooler, had never dated a person in his whole life. 

Akaashi Keiji, who was standing in front of a well-lit Christmas tree with his volleyball club bag slung over his shoulder and wrapped in a warm jacket and scarf, had dated someone for two whole years. That was one whole year more than one whole year.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Bokuto waved in greeting. Akaashi pretended not to see him before reluctantly falling into step beside him.

“Bokuto-san,” he said, which was close enough to a nice salutation.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said, “you went out with your boyfriend on Christmas Eve sometimes, right?” 

“Yes,” Akaashi said. 

“And it was romantic, right?” 

“Vaguely.” 

“I want a romantic Christmas Eve! When I’m actually dating someone, I want to be romantic, and not unromantic.” Bokuto crossed his arms over his chest. “And you’re the most expertest expert I know, so you’ll have to do.”

“I have plans,” Akaashi said.

“You had the same plans as me! You were going to the volleyball team meet-up! But now you’re going to show me how to be romantic.” Bokuto finagled with his teeth against his mouth. “I’ve just never spent Christmas Eve with a date before, Akaashi. And I guess I don’t want to be alone, especially not when everybody else has someone. It makes it, you know. Lonesome.” 

Though Bokuto was more used to Akaashi’s aghast and surprised expression, he could tell, for some reason, that Akaashi was somewhat convinced. The angle of his eyebrows inclined slightly, his mouth relaxed, and he looked thoughtful in front of the glittering tree, the string of flashing lights spilling over his backpack and hair even though the sun had not yet set. 

“Besides,” Bokuto said. “I bought a big Christmas cake.” 

Though the green and red tinsels had been strung from streetlamp to streetlamp, a specific allotment of the market had been reserved for festivities. On the bridge above, Bokuto perched against the railing to peer at the parade of dancing Santas. They jiggled their bellies like bowls full of jelly, hopping and dancing down the street. 

“Which one do you think is the real Santa?” Bokuto leaned his chin against his arm. A child looked at him, alarmed, but Akaashi gave them a stern glance and returned to Bokuto’s side. 

“The real Santa is probably in the North Pole,” Akaashi said. “He’s busy preparing the gifts and his reindeer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bokuto watched another Santa leap into the air, clicking his black boots together. Akaashi had maneuvered between the child and Bokuto, adopting the same lean against the railing to watch the fake beards flap in the wind. The helpers carried sleigh bells, which jingled when they passed out flyers for other events. 

“You probably did something more romantic with your boyfriend, huh,” Bokuto said, and lowered his voice. “Like, you know. Holding hands.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not together anymore.”

“Did you break up because you were going to different high schools?” 

“No. He still attends Fukurodani. But I realized, in many ways, we were not compatible in a significant manner.”

“That sounds really mature, Akaashi.” 

“It was instigated in an immature manner.” The top of the bridge still held a few clumps of snow, and Akaashi pressed his finger into the pile of snowflakes. “One day at practice, when I was borrowing the club room key, a second-year asked if my boyfriend made me happy. At the time, I thought it was an insignificant question, asked by someone inept at relationships.”

“Yeah, that’s really dumb.” Bokuto watched Akaashi’s knuckles turn redder against the wind. “Did you have to borrow the club room key a lot? I remember you borrowed it from me, once. I kinda remember. Not really remember.”

“I only borrowed it once.” The Santas hollered into a song, and Akaashi paused before he spoke again. “But a relationship is built on hard work and commitment. To me, that is still the truth. But when I considered it, I realized I was staying together with him out of momentum. He had said he had been attracted to my appearance, and I found him intelligent. That was all.” 

“That sounds really adult,” Bokuto said. “Like, super adult. If adults had another level of adult, you’d be an adulterer.” 

“No, that’s incorrect.” 

“Will I ever be like that, Akaashi?” Bokuto stood up abruptly, clutching onto Akaashi’s shoulder. “Wait, look! Look at that Santa! His footwork is amazing, do you think he plays volleyball, too?” Though Santa’s legwork was good, his arms lacked certain strength. Akaashi said not a setter, at least, but Bokuto thought with training, Santa Claus could play a mean middle blocker. By the time the Santa parade was over, Bokuto had forgotten his original question. 

There was an exhibition of snow sculptures at a nearby park. Akaashi observed the miniature snow composition of Edo Castle, remarking about the details of the eaves of the roofs. Bokuto played in the small arena cast off for children, and when Akaashi returned from his slow milling around the artwork, Bokuto had managed to build a lopsided snowman. 

“What if I’m really bad at dating?” Bokuto stared up at his snowman’s misguided smile. “What if it’s always gonna be me and this snowman, forever?”

“The snowman is going to melt,” Akaashi said. “And you’re in high school.”

“But it feels like everybody already knows about dating and stuff! And I just like volleyball. If dating was more like volleyball, I’d be really good at it, because I’m the best at volleyball.” 

“Have you packed for your youth team training camp?”

“Of course I have, Akaashi!”

“Did you remember your toothbrush?”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Akaashi said, kneeling beside him to also stare up at the snowman’s crooked smile. “Perhaps a relationship is like volleyball. You weren’t always good at volleyball.”

“Of course I was!”

“You practiced,” Akaashi said, in a tone that said clearly that he was ignoring him. “Just like you’re practicing now.”

“Oh. Oh! You’re right for once!” Bokuto pondered this. “Should we try and be romantic, Akaashi?” 

“About what?” 

“I don’t know. How are your kids?” 

“Well.” Akaashi blinked, and someone in the distance had begun to play carols on a violin. “A-kun has the coup, but B-chan is doing better in preschool. I worry about her temperament, however, and hope that the winter break permits her some breathing room to adjust to her new environment.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bokuto said, nodding. “It’s a difficult time for her, right? How’s her diet? Some fresh vegetables might do her well, it’s always good to keep a healthy diet.”

“I try to keep a consistent meal and sleep schedule for her, but I’m afraid I haven’t been able to fully take advantage of supermarket sales.”

“Oh yes, oh yes. I know how it is. I’ll bring you over some of my own cooking some time, it’s guaranteed to put a pep in her step again.” Bokuto paused. “Is this romantic, Akaashi?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi said. “But please stop looking so concerned, Bokuto-san. I invented the children. They’re not real.”

Along the street, the stores had been lit up like candlelight. Bokuto bent down to examine the toy trains chugging along small tracks, carrying loads of tinfoil presents to awaiting figurine children. When the restaurant doors opened, the smell of chicken and baked goods burst and lingered in the cold air, even while the customers ducked inside the hot warmth with their arms still wrapped around themselves. The snow had grown deeper, though mostly swept aside by the busy foot traffic. The trees had been roped with ornaments and lights, and the tinsel hung with care. A fake reindeer bobbed its head up and down, and Bokuto stopped to watch it. Akaashi stayed behind him, blowing on his fingers. 

“Are you cold, Akaashi?”

“They said there might be a snowstorm,” Akaashi said. 

“I guess that means it’s cold.” Bokuto hadn’t brought mittens either, so he grabbed Akaashi’s hand and brought it into his pocket. Akaashi didn’t protest, and watched the nodding reindeer thoughtfully. 

“The trains are probably down,” Akaashi said. “I would have to wait at the crowded station. Alone. For hours. Without company. Alone.”

“Then stay at my place, Akaashi!” Bokuto was proud to have thought of the idea all by himself without any prompting whatsoever. Akaashi merely nodded, and curled his fingers inside Bokuto’s pocket. 

Bokuto lived in a small apartment off a few roads. The snow had picked up to a whirlwind by the time they entered the room. Given the cold weather, Akaashi’s nervous tugging at the scarf to hide his flushed face, and being alone with Akaashi in a private place, Bokuto did what first came to mind: bring out the Christmas cake, forks and all. He liked the little cake, topped with snowy whipped cream and glistening red strawberries. A plastic Santa and a cabin had been placed on top, encircled by the fruit. Bokuto took a picture of Akaashi by the cake, and Akaashi obligingly held up two fingers in a V sign. 

“I want a strawberry,” Bokuto said, cutting into the sponge cake. 

“It’s your cake.”

“I want two strawberries!” 

Akaashi took two slices, Bokuto took three strawberries, and received an elbow in his face when he tried to take a fourth strawberry from Akaashi’s plate. The snow had only fallen harder, the outside a swirl when Bokuto peeked out the curtains. Akaashi had huddled into a blanket for warmth, and Bokuto ducked inside the blanket cocoon as well, unwilling to be left out of the party games. 

“Akaashi,” he said. “Do you think anybody would want to date me? Even if I’m like this?” 

“Wrapped in blankets?”

“No! I mean, a guy who’s really bad at dating! I’m not romantic at all! Like, imagine in five years, and I’ve won the volleyball award five times, but I don’t have any experience with actually dating, and when I do start dating, it comes out awful, and I don’t hold the chair out for someone, or hold the door, and they call me in the middle of the night and I’m not awake so I don’t answer it but maybe that’s bad, or they text and I call, wouldn’t that be bad, or if I text and they call, and they want to talk about where the relationship is going but I don’t really know because I just don’t. That sort of thing.” 

“Which volleyball award?”

“All of them. Duh.”

“Best libero?”

“At least the best receives, right?” 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, fingers peeking out of the blankets. “It’s difficult for me to say this, but I believe you’re overthinking it.”

“So when I’m dating someone, I’ll just know stuff?”

“No. But you’ll have someone to help you.” Akaashi seemed to contemplate something. “There are different styles to volleyball, just like there are different ways to celebrate Christmas, and different ways to relate to another person. There is no singular right way.”

“I guess,” Bokuto said. Akaashi looked at him for another moment.

“I don’t consider myself particularly mature,” Akaashi said. 

“What? But, Akaashi, you actually have a pencil case!” 

“That’s just reasonable.” Akaashi rubbed his fingers over the warm blankets, the wind swirling the snow against the frost-etched windows. “But even I wonder if I’m doing it ‘right.’ If I should say something about my feelings, if he returns my feelings, if I should be more romantic. If he understands what I’m saying, or if I’m afraid about what would happen. If I’m going too fast for him, or too slow. If it’s all right to enjoy it like this, even if it’s unspoken.”

“That sounds really difficult.” Bokuto slumped over the blankets. “I’d never think about hard things like that, Akaashi! I’m probably going to mess it all up!” 

“No need to be overdramatic.” Akaashi contemplated this, buried underneath the mountain of blankets. “But when I received the career goals sheet, I was worried about my future. I’m certain you weren’t so worried. It’s something like that, in the way people are different.”

“I guess. I guess!” Bokuto grabbed his hair. “But if only it was more like volleyball, you know?”

“Maybe it can be.” Akaashi finally emerged from his blankets. “You can leave things up to me.” 

They exchanged presents, still buried under the blankets. Akaashi rustled through the tissue paper to find a Vabo-chan towel, which he neatly folded. Bokuto got a gift card to a sports store from Akaashi, and Akaashi handed over a second present from Santa Claus, which, like always, had been accidentally delivered to Akaashi’s house instead. Bokuto eagerly ripped open the identical wrapping paper to find socks with small volleyballs embroidered near the top.

“Wow! Look, Akaashi! Santa always brings the best gifts.” Bokuto stuck his feet out into the cold to pull them on, wiggling his toes in admiration. Akaashi had wrapped the blankets fully around himself, but he watched with an indifferent hum of acknowledgment. Bokuto poked at the small volleyballs, imagining playing on a court so small, before he glanced up abruptly.

“Oh,” he said sheepishly, grabbing the gift card. “But I—I like your present the best, Akaashi.” 

“That makes me happy.” Akaashi’s face didn’t move, but Bokuto could tell, by now, that the slight incremental raise of his mouth meant that he really meant it. 

“I’m glad you came with me tonight,” Bokuto said, clutching onto the card. “I mean, I guess if I asked anybody, they would come. But it had to be you.”

“Had to?”

“Yeah! It has to be Akaashi, it has to be.” Bokuto hummed to himself, nice and wrapped and warm. Akaashi sat across from him, though their legs had gotten tangled underneath the blankets. Bokuto still poked at his volleyball socks.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. His face had a faint flush, his eyes lowered, his fingers brought together only by the tips. “Would it be acceptable if I thought that was a little romantic?”

“Huh?” Bokuto blinked. Akaashi still rubbed his hands together, but when he finally looked up, he was smiling.


End file.
